


Only You, Only Me

by AbbyDebeaupre



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-04 12:18:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12168735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbyDebeaupre/pseuds/AbbyDebeaupre
Summary: Following BPC’s victory at the battle of Culloden Scotland and its people have endured 250 years under the dictatorship of the Stewart Monarchy. Emerging from out behind the “Heather Curtain,” Jamie Fraser is a brilliant dancer with the Royal Edinburgh Ballet & one of the lucky few allowed to travel to the “Free World.” He finds himself in London with a potentially career-ending injury.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cantrix_grisea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantrix_grisea/gifts).



> I'm not sure if the link will work but this story was inspired by Cantrixgrisea --  
> a wonderful artist and this amazing picture. 
> 
> https://cantrixgrisea.tumblr.com/image/165624720549
> 
> who added this when she posted:
> 
> I do not want Geneva or Mary.  
> I want Jamie and Claire and I want a quiet weekend.

<a href="https://68.media.tumblr.com/5641bafbba397c76f29a3d76e5e19fc8/tumblr_owp34qdSCS1wysxdmo1_1280.jpg>@cantrixgrisea.tumblr.com</a>

 

_“I miss my husband.” She whispered_ _, crawling into Jamie’s lap._

_________________________________________________________________ 

PRESENT DAY:

 

The joy of finding each other again, reconnecting after years apart, had faded as the weight of their separate lives threatened to crush them both.

 

Claire had stormed out of the house after their huge blow up. She’d gone off for hours while Jamie paced and worried and tried as best he could to give her the space she’d so obviously needed.

 

He’d just finished washing up when she found him. Wordlessly, she shed her cloak and outer garments until she stood in front of him in nothing but her shift. Jamie was still tense, punch-drunk tired and emotionally he felt he’d been wrung limp just like the washcloth he’d hung up on the peg moments before.

 

She closed the distance between them, fitting herself just under his chin, her cheek warm from her exertions and the rest of her cold as ice from her walk.  Gooseflesh rippled all along her body at first contact.

 

She whimpered feeling the heat of him as his arms came around hers. He rubbed up and down, warning her as best he could. As he snaked his fingers down her arm, to her right wrist and then her palm he found her ring….his ring…. _their_ ring and firmly circled it with his own thumb and middle finger, moving it up and down slightly. She wasn’t wearing the other one.

 

“I never took it off.” It was important that he know.

 

He tilted her head up to his and kissed her hard, his hand clenched her fingers hard enough to make her shudder. She gave a soft cry of frustration then pushed him down. He landed on the cushion below.

 

“I miss my husband.” She whispered, crawling up into Jamie’s lap.

 

“Sassenach---” he whispered tucking a errant curl that had slipped free from her chignon back behind her ear.

 

“Shhh. I don’t want to talk about Mary.” She said kissing him as her arms wrapped around his bare shoulders. “or Geneva...or  Frank. Only you. Only me. Jamie and Claire.”

 

Jamie’s finger slowly stretched out toward Claire, toward his wife. He slowly, oh so slowly moved the delicate straps of her shift off one shoulder, then the other. The fabric slipped down a bit as he shifted her body closer. Her skin had warmed now but his hands were still hot as blazes where he touched her.

 

The delicate bones of her clavicle, the graceful lines of her neck slowly revealed themselves to him. Just as he remembered.

 

His lips placed a soft kiss just above her breast then made their way down the slope of her cleavage, fluttering over her heart.

 

Claire made a soft sound of need and he stared up into that face. She had tears in her eyes watching as his lips relearned her secrets.

 

“You came to me so often in my dreams.” He told her. “I have seen you just like this. Mo nighean donn, with your hair coming down and your breast like ivory.”

 

“Kiss me again.” She begged.

 

Then she sighed. “I had forgotten.” she admitted.

 

“What?” He whispered.

 

“Everything.”

 

“What did you miss most?” He asked.

 

“Everything.” She repeated causing him to chuckle. “The feel of your arms, The beat of your heart. The strength of your body. I thought I might go mad for the wanting.” Claire’s body began to slowly move against him. He moaned. “What did you miss most?”

 

“This.” He choked out kissing her with new urgency. “The joy of knowing how to touch you, to be free in all that I say and do.”

 

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and gripping her backside firmly between his hands.

 

His breath fluttered against her neck as she ran her tongue along his shoulder. His roughed scraped against her forehead. She shivered at the sound of his voice in her ear.  She kissed his neck, his cheek, whirled her tongue near his earlobe, delicately clamping her teeth down. Her hands compulsively moved all along his back, his shoulders, her fingers running the bones of his spine.   

 

“Oh, you feel so good!”

 

How many times had she imagined the feel of his hands tangled in her hair, gripping her hard, making her ache just like this?  

 

He growled and pushed her slightly back.

 

“Take this off, Sassenach.” He told her as he helped her pull her shift up, baring her completely.

 

Then silence. Claire’s eyes flew to his face but he wore an expression she’d never seen before. Deeply uncomfortable, she moved her hands to cover herself.

 

“Jesus.” He whispered. His fingers came forward and he stroked her cheek so tenderly it made her heart squeeze tight.

 

“My God, how?” He asked.

 

“How?”

 

“How is it that you are even more beautiful now than the first time I ever saw you?”

 

Claire pressed her body to his, rising up into position. That strong, fearless face whose fine details had been forgotten in the mists of time once more brought into sharp focus.

 

Tears welled in her eyes, too as a feeling of love came over her strong enough to steal her breath. He felt it, too.

 

“I need you.” A ferocious, buring want causing Jamie’s voice to sound hoarse.

 

“I want you inside me, Jamie, please.”

 

He made a panting sound as she moved and shifted. They both watched as he disappeared inside her and moaned at the sense of fulfillment that stole over them at their joining.

 

The heat and clutch, he’d forgotten altogether. She ground herself against his erection, and the pulse and the power of it long absent in her life.

 

Ah, but the the memory of how to move together came back to them at once as she rocked herself against him and his hands gripped her firmly, moving with her and her with him.

 

Everything they had been through led them to this moment. Neither one of them had been prepared for the utter devastation of being torn apart. Neither one of them had been prepared for the incandescent joy of coming together again.

 

At last. Just Claire and Jamie.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set Ten Years Before The Events That Take Place In Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @gotham-ruaidh who wanted to know who they were and for @cantrixgrisea even though she raised excellent points about Jamie’s height....

##  **Ten Years Earlier**

Claire remembered the first time she saw him dance. Jamie Fraser was only 19 and had just made his debut with the Royal Edinburgh Ballet tour of London. Her boyfriend, Frank Randall,  had managed to score two precious seats to this event, through his counter intelligence connections. Claire had taken a rare evening off from her last year of residency. She was about to become an orthopedic surgeon at St. Mary’s Hospital. Frank was one of an elite team of British “diplomats” in charge of shadowing various members of the company and their handlers.

Scotland was still under the dictatorship of the Royal Stewart Monarchy. They ruled their country behind “The Heather Curtain” and though they shared a border with England, the ten mile wide demilitarized zone between the two countries might as well have been Siberia so desolate and forbidden the territory. There was a strict no-fly zone over Scottish airspace.

Not much was known of everyday life in Scotland. What little information trickled out came from satellites making passes from space and from athletes allowed to travel outside the country for Olympic events or ballet tours like this one.

The people, the language, the customs had developed largely in isolated since the time of the victory of the Bonnie Prince Charlie on the moors of Culloden in 1746. Most of the artists and athletes allowed to travel either did not speak English or pretended they did not. They spoke  Gaelic, a language not widely spoken and certainly not in the living memory of most Britians today.  

The exquisite power of his performance stole her breath. Every movement technically precise, flawlessly executed. Jamie was beautiful to watch. Gasps could be heard from the seats around them as he launched himself time and time again gravity-defying moves. Most male dancers could, and were expected to, leap four to five feet off the ground. But Jamie, who, at just under 6 feet, was taller than the usual dancer, could get as high as seven feet in a single bound. The best high jumpers in the world, Claire knew, could top eight feet. But more than that he became the character. Body and soul -- it was in his  hitched step, the way he moved his hands to say nothing of that face that could convey the depth of his feelings with a flick of his eyes. His acting ability, so rarely allowed to flower in a dancer, at least in the free world, moved the audience to tears.

Like everyone else given the privilege of seeing him that night, Claire had been riveted. Stunned silence greeted the final tour jete and then like a giant wave the explosion of the standing ovation that went on for at least fifteen minutes.

Laoghaire Mackenzie, the prima ballerina of the REB, was presented with a bouquet of flowers as she finished her bows. She pulled a single rose out to present it to Jamie, the traditional gesture of respect from a ballerina, then had obviously changed her mind mid-reach. She kept the one flower for herself and, catching him totally by surprise, thrust the rest of them into his outstretched hand. This prompted another round of cheers.  

Now Jamie sat on the table in her exam room, the MRI of his knee running through her computer as he watched  her with the most piercing blue eyes she’d ever seen. His body had hardened and matured in the three years since she’d seen him last. He also looked exhausted, his face lined with pain. The REB was back on tour and he was once again the lead dancer of the Company. Claire had learned when dealing with professional athletes to be honest and direct.

“Well, Mr. Fraser, you have two choices, either I operate or you fly home and someone else does. If not, you will never dance again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a one shot...who knows though....


End file.
